Needed
by TheDudeLordOfFantasy
Summary: Lie to me.Give me something worth living for, tell me a reason worth fighting for.Give me anything, anything to keep me breathing. Charlie locks himself in his room for days and won't come out. Only one person can help him but will he? Oneshot!


Disclaimer: Numb3rs isn't owned by me or anyone I know; I am using the characters without permission and mostly for my entertainment.

A/N: I was listening to Matchbook Romance's song "Your Stories, My Alibis" and the lyrics made me think of this little one shot fic between brothers.

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Charlie wouldn't come out.

He'd been locked up in his room for almost three days, not letting anyone in and if he did come out I was only for a few seconds before he returned to his refuge. He didn't come out for food or water and no one knew why.

Alan was worried sick and was constantly trying to force his way into the room but was never able to. Larry didn't know what he was doing in there and was continually coming by the house and speaking through the door but his only response from his friend was that he was fine and he wanted to be left alone. Amita got the same response when she tried to get an explanation from him.

Alan called Don when he first figured out that Charlie was acting strange but Don insisted that he would be back to normal in no time. Alan kept insisting that Don come over and try talking to him but Don told his father to let him be because that's what Charlie wanted.

Don knew Charlie was different but he thought that time mended all wounds and time was all Charlie needed. But he knew that enough was enough when his father called him telling him that he hadn't come out of his room for three days. Now he knew something was definitely wrong and that his brother needed him.

He entered the house to find his father banging on his brother's bedroom door.

"Charlie," he heard his father's voice say loudly so I would be heard on the other side. He waited for an answer but none came. 'Charlie can you please answer the door?" Still no answer.

"Hey Dad," Don greeted going up the stairs to meet his father.

"Don, thank you for coming. He still hasn't come out. He's stopped talking to me and he hasn't eaten anything for three days."

"Wait, Dad," Don said trying to comprehend his father's rapid words. "He's stopped eating?"

His father nodded vigorously. "Yes, why do you think I've been so worried?"

"Ok," Don said stepping closer to the door. "Can you give me a moment to see if I can talk to him?"

"Yes, yes of course," his father was saying as he slowly turned to go down into the living room. "Call if you need anything."

And with that his father departed.

Don turned back to the door. What was wrong with Charlie? He hadn't locked himself in his room for years and even back then he came down to eat.

He knocked quietly on the wooden door. "Charlie," he called softly. Getting no response he tried again. "Charlie, it's Don," he called a little louder. Still no answer. "God-damn-it Charlie," he said louder getting frustrated and worried that his little brother wasn't responding. "Answer me Charlie. I know you're in there and you know that I can break down this door. What's wrong buddy? Dad says you haven't come out of there for three days. We're all worried sick. Please open the door."

Don was surprised at what happened next. The door opened a crack and he saw Charlie peak through the door at him. He didn't think that Charlie would actually open the door for him. Alan said that everyone even Larry and Amita tried but he wouldn't even talk to them. Why did he open the door for Don?

And when he looked at his eyes he knew something was wrong. Those eyes weren't hi little brothers. His brother's eyes were happy and full of life. Those eyes were sad and mournful; everything that Charlie's weren't.

"Can I come in?' Don asked quietly.

Charlie seemed to ponder on this for a second but then he stepped back and opened the door wider to admit his brother. He didn't make a sound.

Don quickly stepped into the room to find it in shambles. His bed was a mess and all his books were thrown on the floor and most of them were torn and missing pages, which were taped or tacked up in various places on the walls. His lampshade was crooked and his shades were drawn. Writing was everywhere. Charlie had written on every surface imaginable. He had written numbers on the walls, on the ceiling, on his furniture, and even on the hardwood floor.

Don stared in awe at his younger brother's room. He heard Charlie close the door and lock it quietly. He turned to him and that's when he got his first good look at him. He was much skinner than when he last saw him, his lips were dry, and his hair was astray. His eyes were dark and slightly sunken and his skin had an unhealthy tinge to it. His hands were shaking and so was most of his body.

"Charlie what did you do?" he asked turning to him.

Charlie looked like a child who got caught with his hand in the cookie jar. He just stared at the floor quietly staring intently at his shoes.

"I couldn't stop," he said almost silently. "There were too many things going through my head. I couldn't stop writing. I couldn't stop thinking."

"Charlie," Don said walking towards his brother. "What's wrong? Why did you lock yourself in here? We're all worried about you." He put his hand gently on his brother's shoulder and was surprised when he saw him jump back like a startle animal. He backed up a few steps from Don.

"I can't stop thinking." He pulled out a sharpie and started writing out numbers on the floor where he obviously had left off.

"Charlie, you have to talk to me. What the hell are you doing? You can't just avoid this!"

Charlie just kept writing.

"Charlie look at me!"

Charlie just kept writing.

"Look at me!" Don yelled grabbing the marker out of his hand and gently forcing his chin up so he could look him in the eye. "What is going on?"

"I'm sorry," he said quietly.

"What do you mean 'your sorry'?" Don asked confused. He saw Charlie's eyes well with tears and one slowly fell down his face. "Hey, come here," he said helping his brother to his feet and leading him to the edge of the bed where they both sat down. "What's going on buddy?"

"My mind won't stop," he said quietly his voice full of tears. He wouldn't look at Don and kept his head facing the ground. "I can't stop going back to all the things I got wrong… all the things that I messed up. When mom…" his voice broke. " When she died…I messed up real bad. I mess up all the time…and…I'm sorry,"

Don saw another tear fall to the floor.

"Hey," Don said quietly looking at his brother. "You do not mess up everything."

Charlie looked up slowly showing Don many tear tracks running down his face; his eyes and nose red.

"You helped me a bunch of cases and helped us put a lot of dangerous people in prison. You do not mess everything up Charlie. Never tell yourself that."

"But with Mom…I couldn't stop working on that problem…I couldn't stop and I didn't see her…" he lowered his head again. "And I never…listen…I never listen and I'm never there when…you and Dad need me…"

Charlie lifted his head again. "I need help Don. I don't want to go but I think I need to."

"Charlie…" Don started worriedly. His pulse quickened. Charlie was scaring him now. The way his eyes were… they weren't right. They were lost and frightened. "Please don't talk like this. You're scaring me buddy. Where do you need to go? What are you talking about?"

Charlie didn't answer.

"Charlie, you don't need to go anywhere. You don't need to leave Dad and I. Just please stay and tell me what you're talking about."

"I don't want to be here anymore with Mom gone," his voice was just above a whisper but it rang through Don's head as if it had been shouted.

What was Charlie saying?

"I want to be with Mom."

"Charlie…"

Charlie's eyes suddenly became frantic when he realized what he was saying.

"Don, please tell me something. Lie to me Don; tell me that I have something to live for. Tell me anything that will help me. Please Don…I need help. Help me Don."

He wrapped his arms around his chest, tears falling at a rapid pace.

"Oh, Charlie," Don whispered grabbing his brother and wrapping his arms around his thin frame. He felt his brother's body shaking slightly under his light touch. "Please Charlie don't go."

He held his brother rocking him slightly; letting him cry silently into his shoulder. "You need to live for Dad. You need to live for Larry and Amita. You have to live because you're the only reason we close so many cases at the office. You need to live for your student. You need to live because Mom wouldn't have wanted you to do this. But you especially need to live…" he paused and pushed his brother away so he could look at his eyes as he said this. "Because I need you."

Don's eyes were filling with tears but he didn't care because a small spark of the old Charlie had returned in his large brown eyes.

"Please Charlie, stay with us. Stay with me…"

He wrapped his arms once again around his brother's thin figure and this time he returned the embrace.

They stayed that way for awhile before Don realized that his brother was literally shaking with weakness and fatigue.

"Come on," Don said pulling back from his brother and standing. "Lets get you something to eat."

He went to the door and opened it. Charlie got up and took a few steps towards his brother when his knees seemed to give way and he would've stumbled to the floor if Don hadn't caught him.

"You ok buddy?" he asked standing him back up.

"Yea. Yea I'm fine," Charlie said straightening. "I just got a little dizzy for a second."

"Going three days without food and water can do that to you," Don joked lightly giving off a small smile which Charlie returned. "Come on, let's go get you some food."

Don didn't take his protective grip off Charlie's as he led him down the stairs and into a chair at the dinning room table. Their father was sitting on the couch reading the paper as they came down the stairs. He stood quickly but Don shot him a look that told him not to ask any questions.

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He made Charlie eat two sandwiches and drinkfive glasses of juice before he was satisfied with him. It was either that or he was going to send him to the hospital for dehydration. After he had finished eating Don helped him upstairs but told him he didn't want him sleeping in his room that night. So he brought him to his old bedroom and helped him into his old bed. He fell asleep almost immediately but Don found that he couldn't leave his side.

He just sat there on the edge of the bed watching his brother breathing.

He could've lost his brother if he didn't come that night. Charlie wanted to die and Don might've not shown up to help him.

So many thoughts were swirling through his head which made it possible for his father to walk in the doorway unheard by Don.

"How'd you do it?" he asked quietly looking at his slumbering son. Don whipped around startled by his father's sudden appearance.

Don shrugged turning back to the slumbering figure before him. "I guess he just needed his brother."

Alan put a hand on his eldest child's shoulder.

"He always needs his big brother," he said. "Don't be a stranger to him Donny. He will always need you."

Don smiled slightly looking at his baby brother, who was sleeping peacefully before him, glad that he had come to the house…glad that his brother would always need him…glad that he would always need his brother…

End

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A/N: Ok how was that? That was my first numb3rs fic that I have finished and posted. I have two others but I won't post them till I am completely finished because I tend to wander off on different projects sometimes…

The lyrics I was thinking of were from the song "Your Stories, My Alibis" by Matchbook Romance. They were, "_Lie to me. Give me something worth living for, tell me a reason worth fighting for. Give me anything, anything to keep me breathing._" Yup those were the words that inspired this little fic. So sweet…

Well if you liked this please review and tell me how my first shot at writing Numb3rs fics was. PLEASE! I LOVE REVEIWS! Thankies!

TheDudeLordOfFantasy a.k.a. Kathleen


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